Thursday, February 21, 2008

Review: Ralph Ellison - A Biography by Arnold Rampersad

Ralph Ellison began his life in Oklahoma in 1913, an area far removed from the cultural changes happening in America and an area that, despite its promise of a new life, still held blacks in the throes of Jim Crow racism. As a child, Ralph desired more from the America he grew to love and respect, and he would reach new heights through an unwavering love for the arts, especially jazz; he saw musicians like Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington as heroes because they made it into the heart of American society, despite their skin color (later, in his novel Invisible Man, Ellison's unnamed narrator would also find solace in Armstrong's music).


Ralph would eventually get there. His life ended in 1994 as a man who overcame odds against him as a kid to become a literary icon whose novel Invisible Man is still revered today. He was a man who always set the bar high, and despite accomplishing much in his life, he never finished the second novel he always promised would be a novel about the African-American experience that would rival Faulkner and Melville. In many ways, Invisible Man became that novel, and Ellison's short stories, essays and literary criticism would become standards for reading America and American literature.


It was the second novel that would always weigh on Ellison's mind. With his heightened expectations, the novel would fall under the weight of prestige and fame. Ellison also became the victim of time, and the longer he waited to bring his novel out, the more America--and, therefore, Ellison's expectations of America--changed. He would blame everything from writer's block "as big as the Ritz," the changing cultural expectations of black writers, and a house fire in 1967 that Ellison claimed destroyed the majority of his novel.


In Ralph Ellison: A Biography by Arnold Rampersad, the myths surrounding Ellison is finally rebuffed. Rampersad's biography digs deep into every event surrounding Ellison's career, and strikes a balance between his personal demons and his public persona without placing the writer on a pedestal. Ellison is shown not only as an intelligent voice for his generation, but also as a man prone to anger and a man who stubbornly stuck to what he knew to be true.


Rampersad begins his story by looking into Ellison's tumultuous childhood in the segregated Oklahoma City, where his mother raised him and his younger brother Herbert with the help of neighbors and friends (his father died early in Ellison's life when a shard of ice stabbed him in the stomach after lifting a block of ice). He recalls the difficulties of Jim Crow in Oklahoma; at one point, Ellison's mother was turned away from the city zoo with both her sons, embarrassed by the white security guard. Rampersad does not just focus on Ellison's career, but shows how Ellison's early years helped shape his literature.


When Ellison grows up and heads to college, Rampersad shows a life that closely reflected Ellison's fiction, especially his most famous novel Invisible Man. Ellison's time at Tuskegee, and his reasons for leaving the institution, shape how the narrator of Invisible Man will form his own identity. Rampersad sweats the small details, showing the progression Ellison took as he moved to Harlem in the 1930's and became a writer. Writers such as Langston Hughes and Richard Wright directly influenced Ellison's desire to write a great novel, even though Ellison would later distance himself from these writers due to his changing political beliefs. Rampersad also tracks Ellison's political evolution, from Communist sympathizer in the 1930's to moderate Democrat in the 1960's and beyond. In Invisible Man, Ellison's narrator would make a similar political change, albeit on a smaller level. Indeed, Ellison's fiction was often closely linked to his own changes.


Rampersad's exhaustive research also reveals a man who was prone to arrogance and, as a result, was often viewed as out of touch with modern American literature, especially in the ever changing 1960's. While Ellison worked night and day on the novel that would rival Faulkner (that he ultimately never finished), a new perspective on race relations, especially among blacks, emerged. Ellison was stuck between two conflicting worlds: a white America that accepted Ellison and allowed him to move up in society, and a black America that accused Ellison of being an "Uncle Tom." Ellison never backed down; despite younger writers seeing him as out of touch with the struggles of the modern world, Ellison always believed that race relations were more complex than black versus white, and that African-American culture was distinctly American. As he aged and black radicalism subsided, many young scholars turned back to Ellison's words, and his view of America endures today.


Perhaps the most interesting section of Rampersad's biography is his mention of the 1967 fire that destroyed Ellison's Plainfield, Mass. estate. What is interesting about this event is how minor it truly was. As Ellison continued to labor away with his novel-in-progress, he would claim to those who asked him that most of it was destroyed in the fire, and therefore spent years trying to re-write the novel from memory. The truth, according to Rampersad, was that Ellison lost only a small portion of the novel, since most of the novel was left at his home in Harlem. The novel was never finished or published during his lifetime because Ellison fell under the weight of it, as it grew to be well over 1,000 pages long without any real direction. Later, a portion of the novel would become Juneteenth, published posthumously (the rest of the novel is supposed to be published later this year).


Rampersad ends his biography with Ellison's 1994 death. Suffering from pancreatic cancer, Ellison went peacefully at his Harlem apartment. While listening to a Louis Armstrong song, Ellison signaled to his wife Fanny that the song was perfect, suggesting that Ellison, even on his deathbed, still regarded jazz as one of the most important experiences of his American adventure.


Ralph Ellison: A Biography is an excellent look at a man and a career that, despite its ups and downs, deserves respect. Although he faced his critics (sometimes head on) with a bullish attitude, it was done because of his true belief that America would endure. Although he never finished the second novel he always promised, Invisible Man and his collections of literary and cultural criticism have become classics. Rampersad's exhaustive research leaves nothing behind, revealing a conflicted man who still knew what he ultimately wanted, an integrated America that recognized a multiplicity of views, and in many ways, he got just that.


Originally published at Blogcritics.org: http://blogcritics.org/archives/2008/02/21/144546.php

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Review: Drew Gress - The Irrational Numbers

Unlike many other musical styles, jazz stands out as a genre that can easily tap into the deep crevices of the mind, digging up deeply held emotions and feelings. Stylistically, it is ready to express many ideas at once, to reveal the subtle feelings and nuanced thoughts that aren't always seen at the surface.


Most modern jazz musicians recognize this, and with this knowledge comes the challenge to move listeners in deep, meaningful ways. Any true jazz fan knows that jazz is not just here to entertain or create pretty sounds (in fact, a lot of jazz isn't too pretty), but that it is here to express and reflect the inner movements and expressions of the mind.


Which brings jazz musician Drew Gress into the conversation, a man who truly knows how to use each instrument and every improvisational technique to the greatest emotional effect. In his latest, The Irrational Numbers, Gress knows that his bass-driven jazz digs deep into, as Jack Kerouac said in his novel On The Road, the "pit and prune juice " of the human experience. The Irrational Numbers does just this, taking its listeners on a complex journey of highs and lows experienced at the peaks of mountains and the crevices of caves.


At first listen, The Irrational Numbers is hard to take in, bringing in equal amounts of dissonance and beautiful melodies. Every musician goes off on their own improvisational techniques, digging deep into their own personal feelings in order to bring together the group as a whole. At times, Gress' sound becomes jangled and discordant, but just as he goes off on a tangential riff, he brings the group back to a more unified, conventional sound.


The album starts off with "Bellwether," a short introductory song that highlights the more subdued elements of the rest of the album. With Ralph Alessi's muted trumpet and Gress' bass motifs carrying the rhythm and melody, "Bellwether" is a way for the band to say "we're here" and for the listener to wake up.


Once Gress has us listening attentively with "Bellwether," he gets right into it with "Chevelle," a fast moving and, at times, dissonant song that brings in the whole band. "Chevelle" begins with pounding beats and discordant piano chords. When the horns come in, there is a frantic pace, as each musician improvises on top of the riffs holding the rhythm together, including Gress' bass (here, Gress takes a step back, letting the other musicians take solos). Eventually, "Chevelle" breaks through the madness, and comes to a more conventional jazz technique. At the end, the piano (along with Gress' electronic instruments) brings the rest of the band back down to a beautiful, ethereal moment on the album.


The rest of The Irrational Numbers continues in this way. On "Your Favorite Kind," alto saxophonist Tim Berne riffs along with Alessi's trumpet, juxtaposing each other with fast, technical solos. Gress also reasserts his bass prowess, moving his fingers along the fingerboard as fast as he can. On "Fauxjobim," the band starts off with the same subdued sound of "Bellwether," carries that to the end while drummer Tim Rainey improvs all over the place.


The Irrational Numbers has a way of drawing the listener in, as if the album is one continuous stream of sound. In fact, this is the type of album you can get lost in, not realizing there's a new song every few minutes. By the end of the album, Gress has you wanting more. Throughout the album, Gress also hearkens back to the motifs at the beginning of the album, like the subdued chorus of "Bellwether" and the chaotic moments of "Chevelle." In this way, the whole album feels like it's telling a story through sound. As "Blackbird Backtalk" fades out to the next track "By Far," for example, Gress has taken you into a fiery chaos and then left you in an icy sea, and you must find your way out. And then, on "That Heavenly Hell," you are back to chaos and confusion, as the saxophone and piano fight each other for your attention. It builds to a climax and then leaves you with "True South," a slower track that rounds out the album and goes back to the control and beauty of "Bellwether."


Gress also shows off his bass skills when you least expect it. On "Mas Relief," a short song that lulls you into the bombastic "That Heavenly Hell," Gress riffs along on his bass with a few keyboard effects in the background. It's a beautiful song that shows Gress doesn't always need to fall behind his band; his powerful talent on bass alone can hold a song together.


The Irrational Numbers shows that Gress is willing to delve deep into the recesses of the mind to move listeners. At times, the music moves into chaos, and then within a split second everything seems back to normal. Gress displays a strong command of jazz while showing that the bass can still reign supreme when everything is done right. Overall, The Irrational Numbers is a great album that is worth every second.


Originally published at Blogcritics.org: http://blogcritics.org/archives/2008/02/20/164619.php